


The Quidditch Meadow

by HermioneGirl96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, Canon Divergence, Crying, Friendship, Gen, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 18:04:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14194650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGirl96/pseuds/HermioneGirl96
Summary: An alternate scene toward the end of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, in which Harry tells Hermione to tell Ron where he is. Hermione slips up in relaying the message, Ron makes fun of her, she breaks down, and Ron sees just how much his anger has been upsetting her. Just a bit of humanity and friendship among awkward 14-year-olds.





	The Quidditch Meadow

Hermione looked up from her Ancient Runes textbook every time anyone came down the stairs from the boys' dormitory into the common room. After several false alarms—including Colin Creevy traipsing up and down the staircase so many times that Hermione spent a full 15 minutes trying to decipher a paragraph on the Vikings—the person on the stairs was finally Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione called to get the boy's attention as he made to walk past her. "Harry wanted me to tell you that he's down on the Quidditch . . ." She flapped a hand vaguely and settled on a word: "meadow. He wants you to meet him there."

Ron burst out laughing. "' _Quidditch meadow_ '? Did you just say ' _Quidditch meadow_ '?"

"Yes," replied Hermione sulkily, eyes fixed on a difficult line of runes, which she was supposed to be able to translate.

"It's called a _pitch_! Everybody knows that. It's a Quidditch _pitch_. Did you really think it was called a meadow?" Ron was still chortling intermittently.

"Oh, who sodding cares if it's a pitch or a meadow or a bloody sheep pasture? What does it sodding _matter_? You know bloody well what I _meant_."

Ron, who had started walking past Hermione's table and toward the portrait hole, turned around when he heard the tone of her voice. In three quick strides, he was back at her table; a few more slightly jerky movements and he had pulled out a chair and was seated by her side. "Hermione? What's the matter?"

"Oh, come off it, what _isn't_ the matter?" Hermione demanded, her voice suddenly very high-pitched. "You and Harry both hate me, all because of your stupid rat and Harry's stupid broomstick, and it's not like I've got other friends, is it, it was always just you two and now I've got nobody except Hagrid, and he's lovely and I've got nothing against him but it would be nice to spend a bit of time with someone my own age once in a while, and this hippogriff trial is taking more out of me than I could have imagined, and I think I might have signed up for too many classes this year, and it all just—" She paused for breath and wound up sobbing instead of gasping. For a moment, she looked horrified with herself, and then she laid her head down on the table and tried to hide her tears.

Ron reached out his hand as if to lay it on Hermione's back, and then seemed to think better of the idea. He tried words instead. "Hermione? I—we—that is—Harry and I, er, don't hate you. I mean, I'm mad about what your cat did and all, but . . . I suppose, er, Scabbers wasn't as, uh, important as you are."

Hermione looked up from the table. "Really?" Tears had adhered clumps of hair to her face, and she tried to brush away the hair and dry her cheeks.

Ron's hand hovered near Hermione again, but once again he thought better of touching her. "Of course."

"To Harry, too?"

"I mean, Scabbers wasn't that important to Harry to begin with."

"But am I more important to Harry than his broomstick?"

"Probably . . . no, definitely. Yeah, you are. Of course you are."

"You mean it?"

" _Yes,_ I mean it."

Hermione smiled, though tears were still streaming down her face. "Thanks, Ron."

Ron stood. "No problem." He pushed in his chair. "You were serious about Harry wanting to meet me on the Quidditch pitch, weren't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"All right," said Ron. "Well, then, I'll see you later." He was out the portrait hole before Hermione had a chance to respond.


End file.
